


Possess

by SleepsWithCoyotes



Category: Star Ocean: The Second Story | Second Evolution
Genre: Archival Fic, Don't copy to another site, Interspecies Relationship(s), Knifeplay, Other, Possession, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sorcery Globe Possession Not Dragon Possession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:53:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25542409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepsWithCoyotes/pseuds/SleepsWithCoyotes
Summary: People get possessed all the time.
Relationships: Ashton Anchors/Dias Flac/Gyoro | Creepy/Ururun | Weepy
Kudos: 9
Collections: Coyo's Old Archive Fic





	Possess

**Author's Note:**

> Back to working on moving stuff over from the spambot...this one's from pre-2005, probaby. Meg was having a sick day and I blamed her for this/wrote this to cheer her up? Kind of weird tagging this one...Dias is reluctantly into it, but Ashton and the dragons are _all_ possessed (this is not the typical possession where the dragons take over but the result of a cursed object), so it definitely counts as non-con on their end.

People got possessed all the time. Mostly it was due to the rocks charged by the Sorcery Globe, but that wasn't so bad. Shatter the stones, and you broke the possession--simple. Sometimes it wasn't so simple, like when an earnest Crest Knight like Ashton went off trying to save the world and got a pair of dragons fused to his back. That was _strange_ , but even that wasn't so terrible if you didn't mind the noise. Or the practical jokes. Or the way at least one of them always seemed to be _looking_ at you, cool reptilian eyes holding just a hint of smugness. Not that you could call them on it, because all you'd get was 'awrk awroo,' a look of studied innocence, and Rena telling you to stop picking on the poor things.

Fine. The dragons could be downright irritating, but they weren't that bad. Not like this.

"Ashton," Dias said slowly, keeping his empty hands spread wide and harmless as he backed away. "Put down the knife. You don't know where it's been."

"Yes I do," Ashton purred. "It was waiting there. For me." The hotel carpet muffled the tread of his boots as he stalked closer, his gliding stride quite unlike his usual walk. It was usually Dias' job to look predatory and menacing, to intimidate the locals into leaving the group alone or becoming mysteriously more reasonable. Ashton was the nice one, a little goofy and a lot naïve, the one that took the stares and complained about silly things to make the real problems less noticeable. Problems like Sorcery Globes and no-longer-smirking dragons and cursed knives abandoned in monster-infested caves.

Too bad it hadn't happened _in_ the monster-infested cave. Someone would have noticed, and they would have dog-piled on Ashton until someone could get the blade away from him. Which, admittedly, wouldn't have been easy. Ashton was a clever swordsman, far fiercer than he looked, and he was--

_Fast_. Dias had been expecting the attack, but he underestimated the speed. Not that there was much room to maneuver in the hotel room, but Dias didn't usually need much. He had reach and strength on his side, but Ashton had determination and leverage on his, and a pair of bloody-minded dragons as possessed as he was.

It was the dragons that made the difference--Gyoro rearing up and diving straight for his face like a bird about to peck his eyes out. While he was distracted, Ururun slammed his wedge-shaped brow into Dias' chest as Ashton's ankle twined around his, tripping him as neatly as Dias had ever seen. He'd flung up his hands to ward off Gyoro's teeth, and his wrists were caught and twisted down before he ever hit the bed. He had a moment of brief pseudo-clarity in which to marvel that Ashton and the dragons didn't get tangled up before he realized he was pinned.

On a bed. By Ashton, who was straddling his hips and grinning down at him, soft brown hair hanging wild around his face. Even if his wrists weren't held firmly down under Ashton's knees, he would have thought twice about moving, because the dragons were still watching him, only not with the sly humor he'd grown used to. Arched on their long necks, they swayed gently above him and Ashton both, growling soft and quiet in the sudden stillness.

And then there was the knife, held loose and ready in Ashton's steady hand, the flat of it tapping gently at Dias' cheek. It burned like ice against his skin, but Ashton's green eyes were colder, mad and strange.

"Why are you running, Dias? Don't you like me?"

"You're not _you_ ," Dias insisted, but that was a mistake. Ashton's lip curled as the knife shifted, the needle-sharp point raking delicately down the length of Dias' throat, a thin line of fire trailed in its wake.

"Then who am I?" Ashton snarled, leaning closer as the dragons lowered their heads menacingly, long muzzles skinning back from gleaming fangs. "Who am I when I'm not trailing in your shadow, when I'm not something you can laugh at? Hmm?"

"I don't laugh at you." It was true; he didn't. He didn't laugh at anything, but that was nothing to do with Ashton, and Ashton didn't seem impressed.

"Don't take me for a fool. I know you watch me. The dragons see it even when I don't. You wouldn't stare at me if you didn't want to laugh. If I weren't a freak."

Dias swallowed hard, uncomfortably aware of the knifepoint resting in the hollow of his throat. He couldn't exactly dispute the claim--he _did_ watch Ashton--but...trust Ashton to have gotten it all wrong. He'd thought Ashton had gotten shy around him lately because Ashton had finally noticed and wasn't interested, or Dias had spooked him, or...who knew with Ashton? But not because he might think it was something else.

"That's not why I look at you," he said quietly, his stomach knotting up in warning as Ashton only laughed.

"Then why were you running away?" Ashton asked lightly, bowing over his knees until he whispered the words against Dias' lips, his eyes sharp and scornful.

"I don't like knives." Funny, how his voice came out breathless, as if Ashton was stealing it from him as he spoke.

"Oh? But Dias. Knives like _you_."

It was disturbingly graceful, the way the dragons shifted to balance him as Ashton sat up, their heads arcing down and out as Ashton straightened his spine. Dias didn't like the half-smile on Ashton's face, liked it even less when one hand grabbed a fistful of his shirt and slid the knife down, thick cloth parting with a grating rip. Now was definitely the time to throw Ashton off and bolt for the door, to at least yell for backup, but there was no one else _here_ , damn it. They were all out gathering supplies and information, and he'd been the one stuck going back to the hotel with Ashton when he suddenly got dizzy. All right, so he'd volunteered. And Ashton hadn't even given him a skittish look for it, but the others had been making noises about the dragons keeping Ashton up the night before, that he just needed sleep, and the night was still young. They wouldn't be back for hours.

It took a moment before he realized Ashton had stopped, that something had shifted in the younger man's eyes. They still weren't what he'd call sane, but they were warmer than before and...oh. They were _hungry_. That was the difference. One fist still clutched the rags of Dias' shirt, but the knifehand was shifting, turning, two fingers curling away from the blade to trail down his chest to his stomach. To the scar.

Tensing, he fought not to buck upwards and make an undignified squirm for freedom, realizing abruptly that it wouldn't do any good. Even if he did get free, he wasn't at all sure he could take Ashton like this, while Ashton didn't _care_ who he hurt. Even if he did win free, that didn't make a victory; left alone, Ashton might disappear on them before Dias could bring the others back, and that would be all Dias' fault. But if he waited, looked for the right moment, he might be able to get the knife away before anything bad happened. Besides--

"I see I was right," Ashton murmured, light fingers tracing the faded white line etched into his flesh. No one ever touched Dias like that, not _there_ , as if his scars were something to be worshipped. It made him shudder, ticklish and angry and...no. _**Not** Ashton_, he reminded himself, his breath hitching a moment later as the knife flicked out and scored a line up his torso, as shallow as the last.

"You're going to be so beautiful," Ashton said dreamily, the knife twitching again, lifted before Dias' helpless jump could dig the edge in deeper. Ashton's free hand tugged at the remains of Dias' shirt, pulling it aside and then cutting it off completely with a growl, the knife slashing with eerie precision. He only felt the breath of its passing, and if it was too close for comfort, it didn't...didn't _hurt_. Ashton hadn't really harmed him yet, and he had to wonder just how much of Ashton was still present, whether he'd remember any of it once the dagger was safely out of his hands.

All he knew for certain was that it could--should--be a lot worse. It was hard to remain still as the dagger bit at him, nicking here and curving there, as if there were some pattern to it. He tried keeping his eyes closed, not really wanting to see, but Ashton would have none of it.

"Look at me. _Look_ at me," he ordered, hard imperiousness in his voice, and Dias' lashes fluttered open to meet Ashton's glittering stare. So close, but this was nothing like what Dias had let himself imagine, as rare as that was. "And keep looking."

One hand stroked down his chest, the salt of his touch stinging shallow cuts, lifted fingers painted red. He wasn't really surprised when Ashton's tongue flicked out to taste, fastidious as a cat, but then Gyoro curled his long neck around Ashton's side, hot breath gusting in quick bursts against his ribs as the red dragon leaned in and--

He jumped when the forked tongue darted out and _licked_ him, torn between shock and...he didn't know what, but Ashton laughed bright and careless and leaned in all at once, capturing his mouth for a devouring kiss. He could taste his own blood on Ashton's lips, on the tongue that teased its way past his teeth and curled around his own, coaxing him into forgetfulness. There was a hand combing through his long hair, winding it around a still-gentle fist, but then it tugged hard enough to rip his mouth away, baring his throat as he gasped for breath.

"Ashton--"

"Hush." Lips settled against his neck, a wet tonguetip tracing the very first cut and lapping at the hollow beneath. He had to keep reminding himself that it wasn't Ashton, not really, because when he thought of the body crouched over him, the shyly-smiling mouth moving hungrily over his skin, he almost forgot the knife, the fist in his hair, the warning of worse to come already carved in his flesh. He couldn't trust this, but he arched up into Ashton's lips with a breathless sigh, eyes shut tight again so that he wouldn't have to _stop_.

He wasn't so far gone that he didn't notice Ashton shifting off his wrists, and though his hands tingled unresponsively at first, his eyes opened wide--and met the stares of two snarling dragons, not the least bit distracted. Sparks crackled up from Gyoro's muzzle, but it was Ururun he was more wary of. The blue dragon puffed bursts of frost as his growl changed pitch, higher and lower. Gyoro could only kill him, and he didn't think Ashton wanted that. Ururun could immobilize him with a cough, and all chance of escape or intervention would be gone.

An instant later he was blinking foolishly as Ashton sliced right through his belt, then his breeches, and--

Long fingers slid through his hair as it uncoiled from Ashton's fist, but he was distracted by the kisses that traveled downward and stopped--at his scar, pausing with a caressing lick that electrified his spine. It wasn't supposed to feel like that--it had _never_ felt like that--but he didn't have time to wonder at it because Ashton stooped again and Dias stopped caring about everything.

He was going to _dream_ about Ashton's mouth, even if this never happened again. About how good it was to thrust up into that wet heat and feel Ashton purr around him, any madness in it muffled by desire. The knife was here too, stroking his hip, the taut planes of his stomach, and the dragons kept staring at him, even when he fisted the sheets and lost all semblance of control. He was beyond planning, his hips jerking up helplessly, escape the last thing on his mind as Ashton kneed his legs apart and shifted between his thighs. There was just _more_ and _please_ and clever, _thankfully_ -slick fingers working their way inside him, his reluctant groan as Ashton pulled his mouth away a second too soon.

"Not yet," with the blunt edge of the blade pressing hard at the base of his cock, two fingers stroking deeper. He writhed as they curled and found just the right spot, staying right there and _teasing_ before pulling out to thrust in again. He couldn't _not_ move after that, and he almost laughed as he recognized the faint herbal scent in the air, that Ashton was opening him up with a healing potion while both their chests were sticky with blood.

_Not Ashton, it's not, it's_ \--

Good, too good to care, as Ashton slid his fingers out and pulled his own clothing open and--

_Thrust_. Deep and hard, filling him and rocking back to do it again without giving him time to adjust. It had been a long, long time, and it hurt, but he didn't care, because all the anger and distrust had melted from Ashton's eyes leaving pure need in its wake. He could tell himself this was _his_ Ashton, and it wasn't even weird to have the dragons watching, for Ururun to dip his head in turn and flicker a curious, icy tongue across the line of his jaw, light as moth wings.

He barely realized he was murmuring Ashton's name until Ashton growled suddenly over him, lifted the knife in a white-knuckled fist, and _slammed_ it into the wall above their heads. Ripping Dias' clutching fists from the sheets, Ashton wove their fingers together and leaned into Dias' hands, pounding into him until Dias cried out, his eyes rolling back as he emptied himself in shuddering pulses. Ashton followed a moment later, collapsing over him at the last, but Dias only wrapped his arms around him, stroking down the sweat-damp line of Ashton's spine, waiting.

He knew the instant everything snapped back into place by the way Ashton froze, going rigid in his arms as his breath began to hitch desperately in his chest. Even the dragons looked appalled, rearing back and staring at each other and at him, wide-eyed and silent. "D-Dias?" Ashton squeaked, his face still buried in Dias' hair, which had to make it terribly obvious, even if Ashton didn't quite remember everything.

Dias suspected he did, though, because he began to struggle in earnest but with unexpected gingerness--still _inside_ Dias, and Ashton wouldn't hurt anyone on purpose. Whimpering a litany of "oh god, oh _god_ ," he tried to pull away, but there was no way Dias was going to let him escape that easy.

Shifting his grip only slightly, he twisted and rolled them both over without worrying too much about the dragons, though he was pleased to see Gyoro wake up enough to get his neck out of the way in time. A bottle rolled off the mattress and clinked against the floor, but Dias didn't bother to look. "Ashton," he said, sitting up just enough to take the younger man's face in both hands, staring down into eyes full of a horrified guilt he'd never wanted to see there. "Ashton, stop it. It's okay."

"I--" Ashton's mouth worked silently, but nothing emerged but another of those horrible whimpers, forced from a throat half-closed by emotion.

" _Ashton_. It's okay. You got it all wrong."

"I don't...."

Dias found a smile, and though it felt unnatural from long disuse, he realized after a moment that he meant it. "I never wanted to laugh," he said, and then he bent down and kissed the younger man until they were both breathless. If in the middle of it he felt a dragon's soft, scaled cheek press briefly against his own, it didn't bother him anymore. They were all one, really, so he didn't feel at all weird about shoving Ururun's head out of the way a bit later when Ashton was curled remorsefully around him, gentle fingers spreading a healing potion over the cuts he'd made, watching the lines close instantly over without a scar. It was all Ashton, and some possessions weren't that bad.

Some, he thought as he tightened his arm around Ashton's shoulders, were just enough.


End file.
